


All Things Old Are New Again

by ParadiseParrot



Series: Sanctuary [4]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Transformer Sparklings, Vos City, baby robots, carriage makes cosmos cheerful, marissa has no fear of robots, thundercracker is an emotional nerd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 10:13:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11484228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ParadiseParrot/pseuds/ParadiseParrot
Summary: Thundercracker's curious about who Soundwave has brought to Earth. Marissa is full of tough questions.





	All Things Old Are New Again

**Author's Note:**

> There is never a wrong time for some Sanctuary series, Cosmos/Soundwave cuteness, or Thundercracker being emotional! This is based on exRiD/Optimus Prime canon.

Thundercracker had never seen a sparklet up close. He hadn't particularly expected to, not on Earth, and it hadn't exactly been on his post-war bucket list. What would he even do with one? It was a whole business awfully similar to the larval stage humans had, just a good bit longer and with more work. And it was so expensive to bring one online, let alone upgrade them, that it had been the domain of the rich. He'd simply never had a reason to think about it.

Still, just like everyone else he was craning his neck to get a look at Soundwave's offspring. The little mech had been tiny when the Decepticons last left, tucked close to his carrier and hard to get a look at. Now he was held against Soundwave's shoulder, and Thundercracker could see his wide blue optics sweeping the base, taking in anything and everything. He was the same size as the last time, but likely had a proper vocalizer and more processing power. Some of the humans murmured among themselves, pointing his way as they passed.

But they had all known about Sonata. The _big_ news was that there were two sparklets now, and one had been carried by an _Autobot._ What Soundwave saw in a squat, unwieldy little spacecraft Thundercracker couldn't say, but it had obviously been enough to plant a tiny spark on him and build the necessary frame for it to live on its own. Cosmos looked awfully pleased with himself, too, walking next to Soundwave with Laserbeak on his shoulder. In his arms was the big-news newspark, half Sonata's size. They had a thumb tucked contentedly in their mouth, optics half-shuttered sleepily, and completely unaware they were the centre of attention. They paused near one of the doorways, speaking quietly to each other. Thundercracker remembered that there was a meeting shortly, one he wasn't privy to, and guessed this little conference was the whole reason Soundwave had taken them all to Earth.

“Cute. And weird.”

Thundercracker didn't look over till he felt Buster lick his finger. Then he smiled, giving his dog's head a gentle pat. She'd had a larval stage, too, but it had barely lasted a Cybertronian cycle. Marissa, an adult human since he'd known her, couldn't have had one much longer. She sat down carefully on the wall next to him

“Weird is right,” Thundercracker agreed. “I haven't seen one in ages. I guess it's one way to repopulate.”

Marissa tilted her head. “You must have been one, too. I can see why the war would sort of shut down manufacturing, though.”

She—oh, she didn't realize. Thundercracker shook his head, twitching his wings in her direction. “Most mechs weren't sparked,” he said. “Too expensive to bring them online and bring them up. We're forged or constructed cold.”

“I don't know what either of those things mean,” Marissa said. “Three different ways of being born, really?”

Maybe they had been a little too reserved about Cybertronian life after all, but it wasn't as if humans had done so well at educating them themselves. Thank Primus for the internet. Thundercracker only nodded.

“If you're forged, your spark appeared in living metal,” he said. “And specialized technicians cut you out, so you could form an alt mode. Constructed cold mechs were kindled from living sparks, frozen, and put in frames. They had to work that out when Cybertron stopped making us itself. And anyway, we're all ready to contribute after a week or so. Not like you.”

Marissa looked from Cosmos and the newspark to him, her face twisted in the way humans got when they were confused. “That's so...not to be offensive, Thundercracker, but that feels so unnatural.” She tossed her hair as she turned her head, watching the little sparklet shift across the room. They seemed to be waking up.

“Don't be ridiculous,” Thundercracker said. “It's the most natural thing in the world. Sparking is _kind_ of like being constructed cold, but it's more like your larval stage. It takes two mechs merging sparks, minimum, and one has to carry it for a bit, and _then_ put it in a frame so it can grow up. Only the wealthy really had family lines like that. The rest of us weren't permitted.”

It was probably the most he'd ever spoken about Cybertron in his life to her. There was discomfort in his tanks, so he stroked Buster's ears again. She wagged her tail and flopped down between them, perfectly content. To be happy like a human dog—that was really the dream.

“It's not a _larval_ stage, I keep telling you,” Marissa said. She pinched the bridge of her nose for a moment, before she looked back up at him. “So. If there's three ways to be born, how'd you come into the world?”

“That's none of your business,” Thundercracker snapped. When Marissa raised a brow, he forced his wings down into a more relaxed position. “It's a really rude question, like asking what someone turns into. There was a lot of prejudice around being constructed cold rather than forged. People thought we—they weren't full mechs, not like the forged.”

The problem with having a frame type just like his trine's (and a quarter of the Vosian Fleet, for awhile) was that most everyone could tell that you were manufactured mechs, that you'd been built to purpose. This had dropped off only after excited young Seekers started taking Starscream's frame type out of respect. The Air Commander had tolerated it, actually preening at first at the attention—but his trine had known his true feelings. It wasn't just vanity that drove his old trine leader to new frame after new frame.

But Starscream wasn't his trine leader any more, and Thundercracker wasn't really a Seeker. Skywarp might as well have been nothing at all since he'd disappeared. That last thought really did hurt, and he pressed it deep down again, buried under his spark chamber and his fuel tanks.

“I still can't believe you just write human hospital dramas,” Marissa said. “There's real parallels you could draw between Cybertronian life and humans, you know. Being mistreated just because of how you were born is relatable to a lot of people.”

“Maybe I don't want to think about the past,” Thundercracker said. He shrugged, trying to sound like it absolutely didn't bother him, and knowing he was failing. “Anyway, a lot of the people I'd have to write about are very much alive, and they already all hate me. No one wants to hear about why we started a war and killed all those humans. So mindless entertainment is my thing.”

“You could just make up characters,” Marissa said, sighing. “'Based on true events'. But, sure. I guess humans wouldn't draw up too much sympathy for you guys anyway.”

“Not a bit,” Thundercracker said. He turned away, back to the little family across the square. “I've never even really seen a sparklet this close up, anyway. Undeveloped mechs can't survive wars. So—I'm not exactly the expert on how we all come to be.”

“I guess it would be rude to ask if anyone _I've_ met is sparked?” Marissa said. Thundercracker shrugged.

“They tend to be less worried about it than the rest of us, if they're still around. There's no stigma,” he said. “I believe Shockwave was sparked, but he was a special case. Decepticons were mostly the lower classes rising up, remember.”

“And it kind of got away from you guys, yeah,” Marissa said dryly. “Well, you're not a Decepticon any more. I'm sure you could get a look at these little guys if you wanted.”

Thundercracker snorted, the noise making Buster huff. “Please, Soundwave is still a Decepticon. He wouldn't let us anywhere near them. Those two are the future of Cybertron, if the hot spots never re-ignite.”

“Well,” said Marissa, standing up. “I might never get the opportunity again. Cosmos!” she called. Thundercracker tensed, and out of habit reached down to run a finger down Buster's back. Cosmos and Soundwave both turned, and he knew there were at least two pairs of cassette optics on them. Buzzsaw and Laserbeak left nothing undocumented.

Marissa walked up to them like it was nothing, and Thundercracker had to be impressed with her bearings. Of all the humans he'd met (who weren't on TV), she was almost certainly his favourite.

“Welcome back to Earth,” she said. “Parenthood looks like it's treating you nicely.”

Soundwave looked utterly baffled for a moment. On Cosmos's shoulder Laserbeak ruffled suspiciously. But Cosmos's visor brightened, friendly looking Autobot that he was.

“We're doing our best,” he said. “Sonata's doing lovely with the new vocalizer, and this one is easy. Mostly recharges and refuels.”

He could only see the back of her head, but he guessed that Marissa was smiling. “Human babies are the same way. The only difference I can see is that you guys have to build them.”

Soundwave's visor flashed over Thundercracker, and he had the sudden feeling that he was back in the officer's lineup, being inspected by the command staff. Then Sonata tugged his carrier's hand, and his attention was instantly off of him.

“I'm sure there are some subtleties,” Cosmos said, sounding like he was grinning. Maybe carriage made you good-natured. “He's a sweet little thing, anyway. I couldn't be happier.”

“What's his name?” Marissa asked, standing up a little straighter to get a better look.

“Comet of Sanctuary Station,” Soundwave said. There was a note of clear pride in his voice, but Soundwave had always been a caregiver of smaller mechs. Parenthood was just one more step.

“I didn't realize that the place you're born is part of your names,” she said. Thundercracker finally stood up, taking Buster with him and placing her neatly in his cockpit. He was constantly worried about one of these Autobots or Primal mechs not watching their fragging steps, and taking someone _else_ away from him. Buster was completely unconcerned, immediately curling up in the seat for a nap. Good dog.

“Yep,” Thundercracker said. “But human second names can have some interesting meanings—knowing where someone's born doesn't really mean much.”

“Thundercracker's never seen a sparklet up close, he tells me,” Marissa said. The little human traitor smiled again, and had to have known his wings were drooping. “Neither have I, obviously. Would it be too much trouble if we had a look?”

Soundwave tensed immediately, but Cosmos looked less concerned. Thundercracker glared at Marissa, who only brought half of her optic shutters together in a wink.

“I don't see why not,” he said. “Half of Sanctuary has held him by now without issue. And he's not too fussed by strangers. Here,” he said, and Cosmos was on his tiptoes—and Thundercracker found himself with an armful of tiny, blue-and-green sparklet.

“The meeting, Cosmos,” Soundwave said. He jerked his head towards the doorway.

“Sonata knows to be quiet, but Comet is just a touch too little,” Cosmos said. “I'm not anyone important anyway. I'll watch him.”

Thundercracker's wings were now held as high as they'd ever been, as he stared down at the little creature now occupying his arms. The plating was...soft, compared to his powerful frame. Tiny and easy to crack. Was Cosmos crazy, to hand his child off to someone he barely knew?

They must have been speaking over comm, because without another word Soundwave nodded, took Sonata by the hand, and led him on to the atrium. He was about to hand Comet back, and take a few healthy steps away from potential disaster...

...when the newspark shifted, stretched, and sighed. Optics half-shuttered again, he chirped softly, looking perfectly comfortable.

Thundercracker felt something in his spark tick warmer. Like the swell of affection he felt every time Buster greeted him in the morning—or whenever Marissa settled comfortably beside him, like a lifelong friend.

Cosmos's visor was bright. “He likes you. See, that's good.”

From his shoulder, Laserbeak looked daggers at Thundercracker, but he had spent four million years ignoring her. Gently, he sat back down, careful not to shift Comet too much.

“Hey,” he said quietly. “Hey, I guess you are pretty cute close up. Look at your tiny little hands, and those big blue optics. Sleepy little thing, though, aren't we?”

“Pardon?”

Thundercracker was pulled back, and realized Marissa was staring at him. Laserbeak lifted her head.

“I always knew he was just a softie,” she said. For a bird, she managed to look insufferably smug. “For future reference, he doesn't know Vosian. Neither do Cosmos and I, while we're at it.”

He hadn't spoken Vosian in years. Not since the last time he, Starscream, and Skywarp had prepared for flight, unaware that it would be the last time they were together. Buster didn't even understand Standard Neocybex, and on Earth he'd gotten used to their main languages. He twitched his wings, embarrassed, and looked intently at the sparklet. He'd _definitely_ have to give him back in a minute, if that was the effect he was going to have.

Marissa walked back up to him as Cosmos turned to Laserbeak. “That wasn't Neocybex,” she said. “I know what your language sounds like by now.”

He looked up, knowing his face would be sheepish. “It's a dialect of it. My home city was kind of isolated, as city-states went. It kept a lot of aspects of Old Cybertronian even as the rest of the planet moved on.”

“It's like a...trill,” Marissa said. “Guess you really are just a big metal bird.” She pulled herself back up beside him effortlessly, and he saw her face soften when she looked at Comet. “Is that where you were born, then? Vossy, was it?”

“Vos.” He could have sworn that this newspark was dozing off, as if he wasn't a complete stranger. “Almost everyone there had flight protocols, so we made up a huge part of the Aerial Corps. But the old Senators were really traditional. Real proud of being apart like we were, with almost our own language and weird customs.”

“Like I was saying,” Marissa said. “You've really got something to write about. And it never hurts to write what you know.”

“Mm,” Thundercracker said, non-committal. “But it might hurt a whole lot to write what I miss.”

For a little while, Marissa sat quietly next to him. Thundercracker watched Comet drift off in his arms. In his cockpit, he could hear the tiny thrum of Buster's organic heart, a fraction slower than usual as she recharged.

After a moment, Cosmos walked up to them. Laserbeak took off, gliding somewhere else, but surely not far. Not while a stranger held Soundwave's offspring in his untrustworthy arms.

“Are you alright?” he asked, more quietly. Thundercracker looked up, being sure to narrow his optics.

“Yeah, Autobot,” he said. “I'm all good. Cute kid, by the way.”

He expected that Cosmos was smiling under his mask. “Thank you. He's a real easygoing little guy. Soundwave spoils him, though.”

The corner of Thundercracker's mouth twitched. “And I'm sure he wouldn't appreciate you telling me that.”

“No, he wouldn't,” Cosmos said cheerfully. He turned to Marissa. “My full name is Cosmos of the Manganese Mountains, if you're curious. It's a bit unwieldy.”

“I appreciate your humouring my interest,” she said, raising a brow. “I've learned quite a bit today from Thundercracker.”

“I'm sure,” Cosmos said. He turned back, reaching out one blunt finger to stroke Comet's cheek. “I can take him back, if you want. Our quarters are different now that I'm with Soundwave, so I need to hunt them down.”

“If you want,” Thundercracker said, shifting slightly. “But, I mean...I'd hate to wake him so soon. Maybe we should give him a few minutes.”

Marissa's soft human fingers tapped his thigh, but he ignored her. If he wanted to sit a little longer with the future of their race in his arms, and feel just a little warm and loved, well, no one should begrudge him that.

 


End file.
